Who Gets a Second Chance?

Stand-up comedy is inherently based on second chances. That’s one thing I’ve learned from more than a decade of doing it.

You try a joke again and again until it’s presentable, but various audiences hear it in all its flawed and misbegotten amoeba-like early attempts.

So maybe it makes a certain amount of sense that the comedian Louis C. K. decided it was time for his second chance roughly nine months after The New York Times reported that five women accused him of engaging in sexual misconduct —specifically, they said that he masturbated in front of them or asked if he could.

He subsequently admitted to the behavior and released a statement of apology that, bizarrely, included a list of his projects at the time and mentions of his victims’ admiration for him. He concluded with the statement: “I have spent my long and lucky career talking and saying anything I want. I will now step back and take a long time to listen.”

I guess we, the public, are to assume he has been listening since then? As if the #MeToo movement is just one long podcast with the occasional Squarespace ad? And “a long time” is now less than one calendar year?

A week ago, Louis C. K. did an unannounced set in New York at the Comedy Cellar. He did not address the allegations against him, but rather, people said, made observations on racism and waitresses’ tips, and, brazenly enough, a joke about rape whistles. Apparently, he’s moved on.

For Louis C. K. not to address his fall from grace feels like the equivalent of someone who has been listening only to wait for the rest of us to stop talking, so he can talk again.

He is someone who built his brand on being the flawed Everyman (perverted warts and all), and he’d primed his die-hard fans perfectly for a fall from grace and quiet comeback. It was the all-new season of his public life.

He received a fair amount of backlash for his re-emergence. In fact, I tweeted about it, as is my wont.

Before I stopped reading replies to my tweet, four garden-variety Horsedudes of the Bropocalypse had galloped on through with responses of this variety:

Apology: “What he did wasn’t even that bad.”

Victim-Blaming: “Why didn’t they just leave the room?” (Subtext: maybe these women should leave the planet.)

Hate: “If those women were actually funny, they wouldn’t be trying to get attention this way.”

Self-Loathing (via Fellow Women): “If you can’t stand the culture, get out of the yogurt!”

And I saw this question pop up like a particularly pernicious specimen, not just in my personal Whack-a-Troll game but all over the internet: Doesn’t he deserve a second chance? Is he just supposed to disappear?

The term “I am only human” implies we’re fallible. The very concept of humanity is based on second chances.

It’s that concept of humanity that makes comedy — telling jokes in person to people night after night — work. The people in the audience know they might see you fall on your face. It’s part of the process. But they want you to win. Because if you win, they win. They laugh. The tension is released.

The world of stand-up fiercely guards the status quo, which is ironic for an art form that prides itself on “telling it like it is.” It’s why a Netflix special like Hannah Gadsby’s “Nanette” was criticized by straight male colleagues of mine for “not being stand-up” because it wasn’t all easily digestible setups and punch lines. It was an hour investigating and questioning what stand-up comedy is and how the power structures underlying it work.

Of course, an audience in a comedy club is excited to see a golden child of stand-up come through. Aside from the psychology of crowds often operating as one messy group brain, there is also an unannounced celebrity in the room. Clubs like the Comedy Cellar promise: “Anyone could drop by at any time! Even we don’t know!” In fact, the owner of the club, Noam Dworman, said he didn’t know. He said he was asleep when Louis C. K. showed up.

In that sense, the #MeToo movement has demonstrated that, as a money-driven society, we have been asleep to the continued marketing and monetization of known abusers for years.

What about the victims’ second chances? To argue that their talent must not match that of Louis C. K. or they would have gotten farther at this point in their careers, is missing the point. His actions affected their careers.

To think the entertainment industry is fair or just or chiefly merit-based is assuming it operates by different rules from the rest of world. The burden placed on victims will always far outweigh those placed on predators. Yes, there is probably no measure by which he can undo the pain he has caused these women, but he can try.

In an entertainment career, timing is everything. In a public relations move, timing is everything. In stand-up comedy, timing is everything.

As a woman in stand-up comedy, I often spend more time addressing what it’s like to be a woman or defending why disturbing behavior is upsetting than just getting a seat at the table. The general way through discomfort for comedians is most often a joke. It’s used as a gateway into more taboo topics, or an escape route out of an awkward situation — whether that is a drink spilling or an overly chatty table of audience members, any potential competing force for the crowd’s attention must be addressed.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so glaring that Louis C. K. chose not to mention his public exile or the reasons behind it in his return to the stage. His choice to completely avoid it spoke louder than any heckler saying as much would have.

The way to take a comedian’s power away is not to laugh. But as women from time immemorial in both social situations and audiences can attest, it’s usually easier to laugh something off than to be singled out as humorless or a buzzkill.

Imagine trying to voice your dissent when it’s your entire career on the line. The women who came forward as victims of Louis C. K. had nothing to gain except to be bullied, ridiculed and insulted. Do they get a second chance?

Aparna Nancherla (@aparnapkin) is a comedian whose work can be seen on Comedy Central's “Corporate” and Netflix's “The Standups.”